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The day after I wrote the last post about my recent experiences with the Snowy Egrets, I believe I received a sign from the local Snowy Egrets that they, as a group, were aware of my recent intense attention on them.
I was on my morning walk along the lake when I spotted a Snowy Egret flying low across the water, headed for the edge of the lake wall, where it landed about 20 feet ahead of me on the side of the path. I had frequently seen gulls hop up onto the wall and stand next to the stream of human pedestrians, but not egrets. As I got within about 10 feet of it, it waddled to the middle of the sidewalk, amidst all the people walking to and fro. This surprised me even more. An egret's feet are not really adapted to walking on a concrete path, so it was an odd sight; it was as if I were watching a cartoon of an egret. Then, when I got within five feet of it, it pooped right in the center of the path and then ran back to the edge of the wall. As I drew even with the bird, I was close enough to touch it, and it seemed to look me in the eye before it took off across the lake again.
As we all get to interpret our lives however we like, I choose to believe it had been sent by its people to say, “Hi!”
Dear Readers,
Recently, while standing at the railing overlooking that little section of Glen Echo Creek that dawdles through Adams Park on its way to Lake Merritt, I watched a Snowy Egret do its classic super-slow-motion walk through the shallow water looking for fish. Its foot appeared to quiver in pain each time it took a step. A Snowy Egret's legs are black, and its feet are bright yellow, so it's easy to see them under the surface of the water. This one's right foot appeared to be missing some or all of its toes. The bird was essentially walking on a club foot. This was surprisingly upsetting to me. I felt bad for this creature who seemed doomed to spend the rest of its life having to survive by hunting in pain.
I didn't tell Lynne about this experience for a couple of days, as I was certain that, given her empathy with animals, it would bring her down even more than it had me. Then, that Saturday morning, we were breakfasting at the IHOP in Emeryville, and I saw that my withholding a communication from my wife was putting distance between us.
"There's something I haven't been telling you because it's kind of negative, but I can feel that it's getting in the way of me relating to you that I'm not saying it.”
"OK, I get it. What is it?”
I told her the story of how it had so disturbed me to see this poor crippled bird.
"First of all,” she said, “Animals adapt. They don't sit around wondering 'Why me?' when a catastrophe happens. If they get injured, they adjust and get on with it. That's how they survive.” I started to feel better. “And besides,” she added, “he might have been born that way. For all you know, he might never have known any other way.” I was by now quite happy I had brought it up, as she had so simply and elegantly given me a winning context for the situation. I finished my scrambled eggs in a much better mood and feeling much closer to Lynne.
As I walked along Lake Merritt the next day, I passed a different Snowy Egret -– one with two normal-looking feet -- feeding in the water fairly close to the lake wall. I suddenly stopped to watch more intently because it seemed to me that, each time it took a step, with either its right foot or its left, its leg quivered. It occurred to me that what I had been assuming were convulsions of pain in the club-footed bird might actually have been a fishing technique. By shaking its feet as it walked, the egret could agitate the silt on the lake bottom to flush out any small fish or other edibles that might be hidden in there. I almost laughed out loud at myself standing there by the water as the joggers huffed by me.
As always, I passed the creek in the park on the way home. I looked over and saw that the club-footed egret was there again, only this time it was in repose. It was standing sleepily on one foot, as herons and egrets sometimes do.
Guess which foot it was standing on.
Thanks for reading.
Best Regards,
Gerry
The thing for a man to be enthusiastic about is the woman he's with. The thing for a woman to be enthusiastic about is herself.
-- Vic Baranco
Hi Folks,
We're baaack! Remember, if you'd like to review any of the posts that led up to this one, please feel free to click here.
The story continues as Tiffany and I were sitting on the couch on the second floor in our effect uniforms, talking in quiet voices while the Effect Course was finishing downstairs. This couch is across the hall from the door to Sierra and Jess' bedroom, which was open, as it usually is (an endearing quality of theirs). We speculated as to whether they were actually inside up in their loft bed. We concluded that they probably were, given that they had just come back on a 25-hour plane flight from Africa earlier that afternoon. Where were they going to go?
As if in confirmation, a few minutes later, Sierra walked down the steps from the bed, stretching and yawning. She looked at us and giggled in appreciation to see two uniformed effect staff sitting in the hall outside her room. She asked what time it was, and we told her it was 9:30.
"Wow,” she said, “We've been sleeping for, like, eight hours. Jess is still asleep.”
She started to rub the side of her neck, complaining that all that sitting on planes had not sat well with her. I offered to give her a neck rub (I am a full-service effect person.). When she said yes, I stood up and had her sit on the couch while I massaged the knot that was bothering her. This was, of course, quite enjoyable. She used the time to describe to us the segments of their flight from Capetown to Johannesburg to Germany to Washington, DC, to San Francisco.
After about five minutes, she thanked me for the massage, stood up and walked back into her room. She saw Jess coming downstairs from the loft bed and she said with a certain pride, “Jess, come look at our Maid Brigade,” and pointed to Tiffany and me sitting side by side on the couch. He smiled in that Mona Lisa way he does.
As 10 o'clock approached, I took off my bowtie, unbuttoned my top shirt buttons and went outside to bring our car around. I had arranged with Lynne that, once the Effect Course ended, she would escort the newly-graduated student down the front steps to the street and into the car for our return trip. I waited while Lynne opened the back door for her to get in, closed the door, then joined me up front.
In the rear-view mirror, I could see our passenger smiling in contentment. She explained that Kate had made a point of telling her that I had not yet done an Effect Course, so she understood she could not divulge anything of what had happened during the evening, a circumstance that seemed to tickle her somewhat, as if she had something over me. It was a pleasantly mellow, late-night ride back to her house, as classical music played from the car radio.
After arriving at her place, Lynne accompanied her to her door, said good night, hugged her, and got back in the car. Without saying anything to each other, we seemed to agree that we had enjoyed the peaceful mood that had been set, and we continued it on the ride back to our house. When we got home, we chatted with a tired and happy Kate about how the car ride had been. She told us she was glad the student had had the restriction of not being able to reveal anything to me, as she had thought it would deepen her experience of the course to digest it silently as we drove.
It had been a rich, full day. At the beginning of A “Typical” Day (Part I), I mentioned that the only thing that could be said to be “typical" about our days here at the Oakland Morehouse is that they tend to end with us crashing headlong into our luxurious bed, exhausted and gratified in equal measure. This day was no different; it was the next thing we did.
It's been a pleasure chatting with you, friends.
Thanks for reading.
Best Regards,
Gerry
The trip to enlightenment is more fun than being enlightened.
-- Vic Baranco
Hi again, everyone!
Previously on A "Typical" Day: Lynne and I had just dropped off the Effect Course student at the Morehouse and we were now headed off to go out to dinner together.
Early on in Lynne's Evaluacy, Linda had taken her for a pedicure and then afterward to lunch at a restaurant called Barney's on Piedmont Avenue. Lynne had liked the place and had expressed a desire to return there sometime for dinner, so Barney's was our destination this evening.
At the end of an earlier post, I mentioned the many and varied charms of Oakland. Well, Piedmont Avenue is one of those charms. It's about five blocks of unique, festive, eye-pleasing shops and restaurants – most of them locally owned - along a gently sloping street. It being such a pleasant neighborhood to explore means parking can be a challenge. We managed to find a space, however, about a five-minute-or-so walk from the restaurant. The weather was slightly chilly that evening (just right for the rust-colored leather jacket ), but otherwise the air was clear and fresh with occasional scents from people's gardens, so the walk to and from the car just added to the specialness of our time together.
As soon as we entered Barney's, I sensed a unique feel to the place. It was quite busy, and there was a convivial hum. At the same time, I couldn't characterize it as noisy. A very warm but not pushy waitress found us a table. Lynne ordered the falafel platter, I the Piedmont Salad, and we also got a strawberry milkshake to split between us (Lynne had had one on her previous visit and insisted I experience it.).
The shake was awesome, and, believe it or not, the salad was even better! It had chunks of feta and bacon and fresh slices of crisp red onion. It was the best salad I'd ever had. The perfect accompaniment to a strawberry milkshake. It was so gratifying I couldn't eat the whole thing, and I had the friendly waitress box up the remainder for me to take home. It was a memorable restaurant experience and I look forward to going there again.
I had to get back to the house for my 9pm to 10pm effect shift, so we drove home in time for me to change into my uniform. When we walked in the front door, there was an impressive hush over the household, as everyone had his or her attention on the theatrics going on in the bunk room, where the Effect Course was still in progress. Connected to the bunk room by a pocket door is the dining room, where the staging for the course was happening, including, I speculated, changing of costumes and props for the various actors involved, who all talked in whispers as they slipped quietly in and out of the room.
Enjoying the backstage intensity of it all, I went down to my room, changed and came back upstairs. Normally I would head for the kitchen at this point to do the dishes, etc. However, the only part of the first floor that wasn't off limits to Those of Us Who Hadn't Done the Effect Course was the front hallway, the kitchen being too close to the bunk room presumably to risk either unintended noise being heard by the Effect Course student or hints of the content of the course being overheard by uninitiated folks like me. So I sat down on the blue couch in the front hallway.
After a few moments, Tiffany, who had also not had an Effect Course, joined me on the couch. For some reason, she was also wearing an effect uniform, and for some reason, I never asked her why. So there we were, two people sitting on a couch quietly wearing uniforms that stated simultaneously “We are here to serve,” and “We are invisible.”
There was a problem, however. The couch faces the main door to the dining room, which is a pocket door as well. This particular pocket door will sometimes roll back open six inches or so once it's been closed. This was uncomfortable for me because it meant we kept being able to see into the dining room by default. I felt as if we were making it awkward for the participants, who were attempting to keep everything secret. I suggested to Tiffany that we go sit on the couch in the second floor hallway, across from Sierra and Jess' room. We would be out of the way, we could converse without disturbing anyone, and we would still be available if anyone needed us for anything.
This change of venue led to a delightful home-after-an-extremely-long-plane-flight encounter with Sierra, which I'll be more than happy to share with you next time. Until then, my friends!
Best regards,
Gerry
The word surrender exists because it's an experience everybody wants to have... under the right conditions.
-- Vic Baranco
Turtle is back in da house! After an absence of several weeks from the quiet Glen Echo Creek pool in Adams Park, the turtle was once again sunning himself on his rock as I passed by today on the way to the lake. It took a moment to be sure it was he, as he was so covered in seaweed, which also trailed off his back and down behind him, that I thought it might just be a new rock on top of his larger customary perching rock. In order to confirm what I thought I was seeing, I strayed off the sidewalk and moved to the railing to get a closer look. This was a bit much for the turtle, and he quickly jumped into the water, disappearing under the mud and murk that lay on the creek bed.
I had not evidently scared him quite to death, as on my return trip from the lake 20 minutes later he was back in position, but with somewhat less seaweed on him.
Hi, Dear Readers,
Forthwith, the report on the next segment of the day I was describing in my last two posts:
When we last left our aspiring hero, I had just finished changing the tire on Linda's car. My next move was to change out of my grubby tire-changing clothes and, believe it or not, take a nap. I assure you, readers, these are no ordinary naps we've been taking these days. These are power naps. Because of the lifestyle we've designed for ourselves, I have learned to set a timer for 10 minutes and do some fast, deep sleeping. None of this fooling around with “drifting off to sleep.” There's no time for that. So my head hit the pillow, I slept heavily for 10 minutes, then awoke refreshed and ready for whatever the Muse was calling for next.
In this case she was calling for me to feed and walk the dog. I put on some nicer, around-the-house clothes, fed Spritzie, and took her for a stroll around the block. As we were walking back into the house, Taj and Evelyn pulled up in Evelyn's minivan with Taj' new mattress inside. They asked if I would help him take it upstairs to his room. I took off the beautiful rust-colored leather jacket that Marty and Ruth had given me when we first arrived in California, and went out to the car to lend a hand.
I change costumes as often as five times a day. I have to notice what clothes I'm wearing at any given moment in case I get surprised with a new activity. Don't want to get my nicer duds dirty or torn while doing something like moving a mattress. And, just because I have a construction project planned for some time later in the day doesn't mean Lynne wants to have to look at me in work clothes while I'm hanging out with her or socializing with our housemates.
After Taj and I hauled his mattress up the stairs from the street, and then up the next flight of stairs to the second floor into his bedroom, and then hoisted it up into his sleeping loft, the next item on my schedule was to do Withhold Monitors' practice with Nicole. She and I were each students in the month-long Withhold Monitors Training Course, along with six others in the house, and a regular part of the training is making half-hour appointments with each other to practice what's referred to as “pulling” withholds. Nicole is a pleasure to practice with, as she is a dedicated student and makes the session feel safe. (BTW, all eight of us that were in that training have since been officially certified as Lafayette Morehouse Withhold Monitors, including Lynne.)
At 6:30, Lynne and I started getting ready for the part of the Effect Course I was allowed to help with, as someone who wasn't allowed to know anything about it: I would be driving, with Lynne, to the home of the Effect Course student to pick her up and bring her to the house at exactly 7:00, when her course was scheduled to begin. When we got to her house, Lynne went up to her front door to fetch her. She came out of her house dressed to the nines in a colorful pants ensemble of orange and brown silk, totally psyched for what lay ahead. She chattered the whole trip back to our house about how much she was anticipating the evening. We had to moderate our speed on the freeway to make sure we got her there exactly at 7:00. After escorting her into the house, Lynne and I followed through on our personal plan for the evening, which was to go out to dinner together.
Well, folks, I thought this would be a good juncture at which to tell you about a comment I received after one of my last posts. One of you wrote:
“You long winded son of a gun ! how am I going to read all that?”
As I'd rather tease you than bore you, we'll continue with the events of the day (and there are plenty more) in the next post. Thanks, as always, for all of your feedback.
Best Regards,
Gerry
There is no end to how good life can be if you find it good in the first place.
-- Vic Baranco
A pair of terns were fishing today, with quite a different style than that of the Brown Pelican. Terns are closely related to gulls, although they are smaller, pointier and sleeker. These guys were about a foot long. They hovered above the water, maintaining a stationary position with very rapid wing beats, in much the same manner as a hummingbird. When they would see fish that were swimming close to the surface, they would plunge to just above the water and grab them in their beaks. It was infrequent for them actually to dive below the surface, as they are reputedly poor swimmers, but sometimes they would.
